


Thank You, Dear Sky, and Goodnight

by Rednaelo



Series: Kingdom Hearts: Love Letter [4]
Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Alternate Universe, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Multi, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-27
Updated: 2019-03-06
Packaged: 2019-11-06 07:52:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17935784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rednaelo/pseuds/Rednaelo
Summary: What’s he going to do without them? He can try to go back to the Islands, if it’s even possible.  But, without them there, would it even be worth it?  He could wander the shores and secret places of their island but Sora would only be reminded of them.  The scratch drawings that he and Kairi did of each other on the wall….  The paopu tree where Riku kissed him for the very first time….  Sora would return there and still have nothing.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Crying is an important part of emotional processing. 
> 
> -Bec

The sky is small.  Cramped between the blocky cuts of tall buildings.  The stars are smothered beneath the yellow glow of street lamps so that only the brightest, scattered twinklings are still there to find.  The sky is small and the stars are strangers.  Sora stares up at the night and tries to decipher what reality is now.

He stops as soon as he starts because what might be true is….  It just can’t be.

Burying the bone-bruising ache of memories and everything they mean for him, Sora’s hand twitches around the.... It’s a key.  A key that is also a weapon, some thought came to him in a whisper.  Keyblade, it told him.  Not a voice he could hear but an understanding, deep within him, it spoke. Keyblade….

It’s absolutely beautiful.  An elegant weapon of sharp, gleaming silver and facets cut like rainbows, shining blue and gold.  And at the end, clipped on a keychain, is a star-shaped charm made of seashells.

Sora’s ears are full of a rushing clamor and his head feels like two tons and completely hollow all at once.  The gasp that rattles out of him makes his chest cave and he drops the Keyblade in dismay, wrapping his arms around his knees and hiding his face.

The keychain….

Riku’s smile had been serene and assured as he offered his hands towards Sora and Kairi. For a moment, time was immovable.  Nothing changed because Riku was standing there, waiting for them both, and neither Sora nor Kairi knew how to join him without giving up.  What they were surrendering, Sora still doesn’t know.  But it doesn’t matter because what he lost in truth was much worse than anything he could imagine.

He never reached Riku’s hand.  When the darkness faded from Sora’s eyes, chased away by a prismatic flash of light, Riku had vanished.  Nothing was there except the Keyblade, shining in his grip.  Its weight in Sora’s hands was barely registered; Riku was _gone_.  Sora had turned and behind him, Kairi was face-down on the sand.

Sora had dropped the Keyblade immediately and run to her side.  But when he put his hands under her shoulders to lift her up, the darkness opened up beneath her and creatures straight from Sora’s nightmares began to pull her down.  He didn’t even have a full second to react and reach for her before the winds ripped him right into the air and he was flung into the black, black sky.

Now he’s here.  In a strange town.  Alone.  His friends are dead.

Sora covers his face with his hands and a weak noise slips from his mouth, echoing through the alleyway. His whole body seizes with each breath, sucking them in only to expel them as hard, wet sobs into his palms. It’s disgusting, sticky, drooling, snot and shaking fingers caged over his cheeks.  Sora makes noises that would better fit a child but that’s all he is.  He wails into the cup of his palms and feels like his stomach is going to come up with every heaving scream.

He could stay here.  He could never move and never go anywhere and…. How would he even get back? Sora doesn’t even know how he got here to begin with. Another whimper breaks loose and grows right into heave of weeping; sweat is making him clammy and slick all down his back, under his clothes.

“Ooh, now, there’s something special.”

Sora picks his head up when a voice fills the alley and reverberates right into his thoughts.  Startling back, he snatches the Keyblade from the ground and brandishes it.  It’s no heavier than the wooden play-swords that he’s been wielding for years.

Riku’s gone.  Kairi’s dead.

Sora grits his teeth amidst a fresh wave of overflowing tears and jabs the Keyblade towards the man in the mouth of the alley.

“Easy now,” the man says, holding his hands up in carefree surrender.  “I shan’t come any closer.  On my honor.  Your steel there merely caught me surprised; you see, I wasn’t anticipating discovery of anything but a crying child when I turned the corner.”

“Go away.”  Sora tries to spit the words out but they shamble, broken and begging. 

“Alright, certainly,” the man says and takes a step back.  He turns, facing to his left, and addresses someone Sora can’t see.  “Perhaps you’ll do better?”

Sora shores up his handle on the Keyblade and stumbles to his feet, backing further into the alley.  He’s pinned down here.  There’s a fence behind him but it’s too tall to climb and the bars too close for him to slip through.

The person who steps around the corner of the alley is taller than anyone Sora’s ever seen in his life.  And that’s not even counting the long, sleek pair of ears that are rising right from the top of her head.  Like a bunny.  The Keyblade falters in Sora’s hold simply in surprise.

“Wha—”

She stands still at the end of the alley, near the man (who still hasn’t put his hands down) and doesn’t come any closer.

“Are you alright?” she asks.  Her words are crisp and lilting, high at the back of her mouth and accented like she didn’t grow up speaking this language.

“You were crying so loudly,” the man behind her says, shrugging up his shoulders and then bringing both of his hands to rest atop his head, “we rather thought some great harm was befalling you.”

Sora lowers the Keyblade and straightens his knees from a stance that’s been worn into him from so many sparring matches. 

“No,” is all he says, straight down to the ground.  There’s a chiming clatter as the Keyblade falls from his hand again and Sora wipes uselessly at his face, more tears gushing over.

“Oh dear,” the man says quietly.

“I’ll do you no harm,” the strange bunny-woman’s voice tells Sora.  “Might I come closer? I can heal your hurts if you’re injured.”

Sora shakes his head, first just to refuse that he’s got any pain to heal from but he doesn’t use any words to convey that.  The head-shaking doesn’t stop and the tears come up harsher than ever.  Sora backs away until he collides into the fence and then falls down again.

“Oh dear,” the man repeats.

“Go away,” Sora manages to shout, though his voice just melts right into another sob.

“We’re more than happy to,” the man offers, rather keen on the prospect.  Sora’s blunt fingernails scratch at his own forehead while he hides his face.  “Only I don’t think either of us can abide leaving you alone in this place.  Who are you with?  Where do they reside?  We’ll leave you in their care and be on our way.”

Sora doesn’t have any answers for this man.  So he doesn’t say anything.  He curls in tighter on himself and wishes they’d just leave him. 

The woman’s heels click sharply with each step and Sora focuses on them, the slow seconds between each sound signaling her careful approach.  When the sounds stop, Sora lifts his chin and she’s within reaching distance, crouched low to be as near to his eye-level as she can be. 

Her skin is dark and her hair is white and her eyes are red, nose upturned just at the end. She’s wearing what looks like a partial helmet made of black metal that covers half her face but leaves room for her long, long ears and long, long ponytail.  Sora looks everywhere at her and she just kneels there and lets him do it for as long as his curiosity distracts him.

“We cannot take you to those you seek,” she suddenly says, her eyes penetrating right through him, every word enunciated steadily.  “You’re here, as lost as we are.”

“We’re not lost, merely marooned,” the man’s voice sighs far behind her.

“You were cast to this place,” she says, still focused on Sora.  “The scent of Darkness is lingering on you.  Its whims are fickle and have done you cruelty.”

Sora’s view of the woman clouds up as his eyes haze over, wetly, and he hugs his arms around his chest.

“I want to go _back_ ,” he whimpers.  When she reaches her long fingers out and gently rests her hand against his head, he lets her, shaking in his own arms as she strokes his hair. 

“Balthier,” the woman says, turning to address the man over her shoulder.

“Right,” he mutters.  “Well, let’s return to our lodgings, then.  That’s quite enough investigative curiosity for one evening if you ask me.”

“My name is Fran,” the woman tells Sora gently.  “My partner, Balthier.”

Sora looks up into Fran’s red eyes and thinks maybe he shouldn’t trust these people at all.  But not moments ago, he thought it better to never leave this alley and simply die here.  She doesn’t smile at him but Fran never looks away.  Her hand is warm where she soothes him.

“Sora,” he introduces himself weakly. 

Fran helps him to his feet and waits patiently for Sora to retrieve the Keyblade from where he dropped it.  As he follows her out of the alley, finding the man – Balthier, she’d said – waiting for them, Sora decides that there are probably better ways to die than starving in an alleyway.

 

* * *

 

The room is foreign and the bed completely unfamiliar but the sight of it has all of Sora’s energy crashing quite awfully.  He drags his feet over to the bed and glances at the two who brought him here to see if they have anything to say about it.  Fran has to duck so her ears don’t clip the doorway and then Balthier steps in promptly behind her and shuts the door.  Though he doesn’t lock it for some reason.

“Right,” he says and collapses into one of the chairs near a table in the room's center. “There’s dinner waiting for us but before all that….”  Balthier leans an elbow on the arm of the chair and props his chin up against his knuckles, looking straight at Sora with lazy, probing eyes.  “I’ve not the finely-honed senses to glean more than words can speak, unlike my incredibly talented partner.  Do you need medical attention?”

Sora slumps onto the bed and looks down at his hands.  They’re empty now.  The Keyblade dissipated in his grip shortly after he left the alley.  In a panic, Sora had grasped the empty air, crying for it to come back, and then it was instantly there again, right in the cradle of his hand.  The paopu-shaped charm at the end still intact. 

The weapon would come and go to him however he willed it, it seemed.  So Sora let it return to wherever it rests without his need of it.  Now he kinda wishes he had it again.  And just like that, the Keyblade reappears, laying across his lap.  Sora picks up the charm and cradles it in both his hands.

“I’m not hurt,” he tells Balthier lowly, not looking away from the sewn seashells in his fingers.  Kairi was holding this.  Right before….

“Not bodily,” Fran says from where she’s leaning against the wall.  “It is your heart that is wounded.”

“If you fell here, scattered from your world lost to Darkness, then I have no doubt,” Balthier says.  Sora glances up at him and finds Balthier staring up at the ceiling, frown plain on his face.  “It’s a rather familiar loss, much to my displeasure.”

“You fell here, too?” Sora asks.  “You’re not…are you from Destiny Islands?”

“Not at all,” Balthier says, waving as dismissive hand.  “Ivalice, our realm was named.  Now, it seems, only the name survives.  And us, I suppose.”

It’s not like Sora really thought they _were_ from the Islands.  Not with their bizarre clothing – Balthier’s vest intricately embroidered in gold thread and Fran’s decorative black armor like lace made of metal – or even mentioning the fact that Fran clearly isn’t human. But the hope that they were still flickered inside of Sora, it seems.  Quickly snuffed.

“Destiny Islands is where you hail from, then?” Balthier goes on to say.  “Sounds a paradise.”

Sora nods numbly.  The shells in his hand are silky smooth beneath the stroke of his fingers.

“And your weapon?” Balthier asks, nodding pointedly at the Keyblade.  “Is that of your world as well?”

“I don’t,” Sora starts to say and looks down at the Keyblade, its edges shining sharp even in the cozy lighting of the hotel room.  It glitters like crystal.  “I don’t know what it is.”

“Really?  A mystery for us all, then.”  Balthier turns his chair so that he’s facing Sora more fully and then holds his hands out.  “Mind if I take a gander?”

Sora shrinks back from the request as soon as Balthier speaks it but Balthier just clicks his tongue. 

“Come now, you know you can simply summon it back to your side at your own whim,” he reminds Sora.  “I’ll not steal a boy’s last reminder of home.  I’d simply like a look.”

Against the wall, Fran is simply standing there, arms folded, watching them with an easy serenity.  Sora doesn’t find any counsel or comfort from her (probably because she didn’t offer any). The only one who decides whether to trust them is him. 

Sora holds the Keyblade out for Balthier to take.

“Careful with it, okay?” he says, and watches the keychain swing as it leaves his grasp. 

“I’ll wager I’ve spent more hours handling delicate weaponry than you have, boy,” Balthier remarks lightly as he eyes down the length of the Keyblade’s shaft.  “Hmm.  Lovely.  It’s light as a foil, this.  Doesn’t seem much more than decorative, aye?”  Balthier lifts the Keyblade up a little higher as Fran comes up behind him to look as well.

“The might is not in its heft,” Fran says, her head tilting one way as she studies the Keyblade.  In a small firework of radiance, the Keyblade abruptly vanishes from Balthier’s grip and returns to Sora’s lap, its handle nestled comfortably in his hold.  They both stare at him. 

“Seems to be rather attached,” Balthier observes and quirks a bemused grin at Sora.  “Well, since it’s yours, I’ll leave you to wield it as you know best.  Odd boy, odd blade…. Shall we feed you now?”

Sora’s eyes sting from crying.  His throat is dry and the prospect of standing up to do anything sounds unbearable.  He wants to sleep.  Sleep for as long as he can and maybe never bother waking up.

“Okay,” is all he says, staring at the floor again.  His fingers find the keychain and fiddle with it.

“I’ll be off then,” Balthier says, standing from his place at the table.  “Stay here with Fran.  Do try not to fall asleep; we won’t bother waking you if you do.”

And then the door is shut behind him and Fran is taking Balthier’s seat.

“You’re quite young to be studying swordplay,” she says.  Her long-fingered hands fold in her lap and Sora spends a moment realizing that her fingernails are almost as long as his thumb.  Like claws.  He looks at her feet and her shoes – high heels? – have claw-tips at the toes as well.

“Yeah,” Sora says distractedly. 

“You’ve not seen my likeness before, have you?” Fran says and Sora looks back up to her soft yet severe features and then glances away, just as quick.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, “I wasn't trying to be rude.”

“Displaced from your world, you’ll see many things you never have,” she says to him.  “Some things magnificent and others terrifying.”

Sora takes a deep breath and swallows back the fear that’s been sitting sourly in his stomach. 

“Do you guys know how I can get back?” he asks her.  “I’m not even sure how I got to this town.  I want to go home.”

Fran sits up straighter in the chair, one limber leg crossing over the other. 

“Who’s to say now if there is any world for you to return to,” she says.  Her focus turns towards the window and gazes out into the night.  “Our Ivalice is lost to Darkness, swallowed.  We turned our ship towards familiar stars but there was nothing left where it once was.”

Sora holds tight to the Keyblade, pulling it closer to himself until the guard is digging gently into his stomach.

“Could,” he starts to say and scrunches his eyes shut, swallowing hard on his tears, “could you take me anyway? Just to check?  Maybe it’s still there. We don’t know unless we look.”

Fran doesn’t smile at him sympathetically.  Nor does she scoff and turn away from his weak hopefulness. 

“Would you not rather stay where you might be safe?” she asks him.  “Balthier and I would have no burden sustaining you here.  Locating your Islands will be a challenging feat on its own; how does one seek a place that Darkness has hold of?”

“I don’t want to just sit here and wait,” Sora insists.  Even the idea of staying in this strange town, completely alone, makes Sora’s skin prickle hotly with anguish.  “Please let me come with you.  I’ll pull my weight; I won’t get in the way, promise!”

Fran and Balthier are as good as strangers to him.  But they still showed him kindness and Sora has nothing else but that for now.  Nothing but their kindness and the Keyblade – a gift that came from such terrible circumstances and persists in his presence. Sora is starting to consider whether he’s thankful or spiteful for it.

“We’ll discuss it,” Fran assures Sora with a solemn nod.  “I’ll make you no promises, but I won’t let your wishes go unheard.”

“Okay,” Sora says softly. That’s all he can hope ask of them, he supposes.

 

* * *

 

There’s no ocean here.  No constancy of the waves lapping along the nighttime shore.  The town outside the hotel window is silent with nothing but the buzz of streetlamps to fill the night. 

Inside the room is just as staunch and barren, Fran and Balthier having left promptly after they finished eating to….  They went out to hunt bounties? Balthier blazed through the reason too quickly and Sora didn’t bother asking for clarification.

“Get some sleep,” was the one thing that Sora did remember him saying.  “We’ll come collect you in the morning.”

Sora cannot sleep.  This town is as mute as a stone. And the quiet makes space in his mind for all the things that are wrong to occupy, and they all sit there, bloating with every second, until Sora is gorged and choked on them.

Laying sideways on the bed, under a single thin sheet, Sora stares out of the window, the thin sliver of nighttime he can espy through the curtain.  The smell of the pillow is clean: sterile and unfamiliar.  Sora’s clothes aren’t really comfortable for sleeping in.  But he doesn’t have any other clothes now.  He doesn’t have anything. All the people he knew – everyone he loved – are gone.

What about what happened to his mom? She wasn’t there beneath that huge, terrifying thing that had overtaken the sky.  But if what Fran says is true, then it didn’t matter.  The whole world was lost.  Mom, too.  His home.  The treasures of his childhood that he kept in his bedroom, places where he could invite his friends to revisit their memories shared together.

Riku stood there, holding his hands out, smiling like the darkness was what they’d always been waiting for.  Kairi…. He heard her cry in the dark but when Sora could finally turn to look….  He can’t forget it: her body flopped forward onto the sand, still except for the wind blowing through her hair.

Sora curls in on a sickly stomach.  Tears are forming even though he’s dried himself out crying.  He turns his face into the pillow and lets it soak up his muffled sobbing.

What’s he going to do without them? He can try to go back to the Islands, if it’s even possible.  But, without them there, would it even be worth it?  He could wander the shores and secret places of their island but Sora would only be reminded of them.  The scratch drawings that he and Kairi did of each other on the wall….  The paopu tree where Riku kissed him for the very first time….  Sora would return there and still have nothing.

He sniffles and smears at his eyes with the back of his hand.

Riku was teaching him how to sail.  Showing him the different parts of their Highwind and how to hoist sails and tie the right knots.  It was easy enough to pick up on; a lot of the terms and techniques Sora had known just from growing up on a coastal village. But no one had ever taught him what Riku did.  No one had thought to try but when Riku said he wanted to take a boat, take all three of them, and leave, Riku had picked Sora to teach to sail.  He could’ve taught Kairi first; she’s a whole lot smarter and probably would’ve understood everything the first time Riku explained it.  But Riku picked _Sora_.

Sora would run right to the marina after school and Riku would already be there with his hair pulled back into a stubby little ponytail and varnish splashed on his arms.  And Kairi would be there, sitting on the dock. A stack of books half as tall as her piled up next to her and one in her hand and a notebook in her lap, making plans for everything they needed.

Good nights, they would all go home right around the corner to Kairi’s cottage and eat the delicious food that her Gramma made for dinner.  Sometimes on weekends, Sora could stay over for longer and sit side by side with Kairi in her living room while they watched movies.  He could press up against her side and she’d put her arm around him.  She smelled so sweet and pleasant.  Like mint ice cream (the best flavor).  He’d fallen asleep there with her arm around him once or twice but tried not to, tried to stay awake and just _be_ with her.  Now Sora winds his arms tight around his chest and wishes he had tried harder.

He tries to remember the last nice touch he got to share with Riku.  There weren’t many in recent memory. The closer they got to vacation. Riku was so focused on the boat that he didn’t take a lot of spare time to sneak kisses or hold hands with Sora like they did so often before then.  So Sora had to bribe him with races and sparring and things like that because Riku would never just refuse him and let Sora win by surrender.  Sora did get one really nice kiss as a reward for beating Riku in a swordfight.  But that wasn’t as good as that one night.  The one where he and Riku were laying nose-to-nose in Sora’s bed and Riku just kept petting Sora’s hair.  They didn’t talk at all.  Well, Sora tried saying a couple things but Riku was just smiling a little and not bothering to hold the conversation.  All he wanted to do was just his scratch fingers gently against Sora’s scalp.  And Sora eventually gave up trying to chat and just put his own hand against the side of Riku’s neck, feeling Riku’s heartbeat under his fingertips.

That was weeks ago.  Trillions of miles away, maybe; Sora doesn’t know.  But it still felt like it was only moments back in his own memory, these moments he can pull up so vividly.  Like the night on the beach with all three of them.  His head on Riku’s chest and Kairi’s hand folded over his own….  Was that really months ago? Surely it was just minutes before now.  They were there, they were right here, with Sora.

All of life feels like it’s stopped moving.  And Sora has, too, of course.  Unable to move from where he lays, frozen stiff and unblinking.  He feels like he’s not even there, like there’s no weight to him that causes the dip in the mattress nor pressure of his own body against itself. The tears have stopped but now there’s nothing.

In the narrow space between Sora and the wall, the Keyblade suddenly shimmers back into existence.  Right into his hand.  Every time, it appears comfortably in Sora’s palm.  Its unexpected reemergence makes Sora blink.  He takes a breath: a harsh inhale and a shuddering, slow exhale.  His fingers close around the handle and Sora slides back into himself, inch by inch. 

At the sight of the seashell keychain, a thought occurs to him.  Riku had mentioned this, Sora realizes.  A good luck charm for sea voyagers: it’s a Wayfinder.  Kairi had told him about it, too.  The Wayfinder was part of a local folk legend about a woman long ago who poured all of her love and hopes for safety into five seashells. She tied them together in a guiding star and made it a gift for her lover who spent long months away at sea.

Sora sits up and pulls the Keyblade into his lap, once again cupping the charm in his hands. Kairi must have made this.  And when the Keyblade manifested in the middle of all the chaos, it picked up the Wayfinder and kept it, the two things that seemingly had nothing to do with one another becoming one.

It’s….  Is it a sign of some sort? Sora wonders as he sits there are stares at the Keyblade.  But what exactly is it saying to him?  There’s a lot of information rapidly rattling around in Sora’s thoughts that he can’t make connect and it’s only heightening a twist of anxiety in his stomach.  He’s too tired for this, too sore from the inside out. 

Maybe he can’t sleep but he’s got to try.  He has to figure out for himself why the Wayfinder and the Keyblade found one another.

It’s not like the Keyblade is exactly comfortable to cuddle.  But Sora finds it a little easier to sleep with it wrapped up in his arms.  Could be that he’s just exhausted beyond belief but it’s almost like he can hear the heartbeat of the waves when he holds it close to his chest.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think what Sora really needs is a hug.
> 
> too bad about that tbh...
> 
> -Bec

The morning is as dreary as the nighttime was crisp with only a grayish light filtering through the curtains.  Sora wakes up to a still-empty room, though he immediately catches sight of the table and the food that’s been left there.

He pulls the blanket off the bed with him and wraps it around his shoulders. The Keyblade vanished again at some point during the night but Sora thinks nothing of it and slumps into the chair, lifting the handwritten note that was left next to the food.

He blinks and rubs his eyes and yawns and blinks again. 

It’s not that sleep is still muddling him; the note is incomprehensible.  Sure, it’s lettering is even and neat but the problem is the letters themselves.  It’s in another language. Sora frowns.   They were speaking and understanding one another just fine.  But it seems like the alphabet is just completely different. 

Oh well.  Sora hazards a guess that the note says ‘here’s breakfast, we’ll be back later’ and hopes the flash of paranoia he has – that they’re not actually going to come back for him – is unfounded.  They brought him food, after all.

Sora takes his time eating since there really is nothing else for him to do.  The pastries are flaky and stuffed with a sweet and salty cream cheese of some sort.  Not very warm but definitely delicious.  And then there’s a fruit that looks a little like an apple but it’s hollow and filled with gooey purple seeds that Sora slurps down and almost chokes on.  It tastes like minty jam and berries.

There’s a moment when he’s eaten through everything that was left for him where Sora wonders whether he has the right to enjoy delicious new foods while he doesn’t have his best friends to share them with.  The thought manifests and then it just sticks in Sora’s head like someone pounded a nail into it.  He’s left there, living with it, halfway between guilt and giving up since he already ate everything but it didn’t occur to him to think this until his body was awake enough to conjure the thought.

Would Kairi care if Sora were enjoying himself without her?  Would Riku mind if he did something on his own and didn’t bother to share it?

Sora takes a deep, unhappy sigh and picks up the unreadable note again, staring at its nonsense letters.  He doesn’t know.

He leans forward and puts his elbows on the table, raking his hands hard through his hair.  Being alone is ten times as difficult now as it ever was before.  Back home, being alone was always temporary.  Sora knew that it would be only a matter of hours before he could see Riku or Kairi again.  And even then, his mom would be bustling in the house or Sora could wait around at Kairi’s cottage and listen to her Gramma tell him stories about the mainland. He was _never_ alone.  He never had to sit and wonder how long it would take until he could see a familiar face again.  Or come to grips with how he _wouldn’t_ see the people he loved ever again.

The hurt for all of it just blends together.

If he thinks on it hard enough, Sora can imagine Kairi there with her arm around him and her forehead nudged up against the side of his head. 

_“Just be happy.”_

That’s what she said to him.  After reaming him for running competitions with Riku so much, sure, but she still said it. Kairi could scold him worse than his mom would sometimes, but she would also drop everything to comfort him if he even sighed in her vicinity. 

_“Giving up already?”_

Riku would always badger him into trying again, trying harder.  Half the time it was just a taunt to rile him.  But if Sora ever fell behind, Riku would start smiling wider when he successfully managed to provoke Sora into catching up.

The Keyblade flashes into Sora’s hand when he gets to his feet.  His friends aren’t here anymore.  Sora doesn’t know what they would do if they were him, but he knows what they wanted for him before all this.  To be happy. To not give up.  So that’s that.

He hoists the Keyblade up onto his shoulder and leaves the hotel room without another thought to it.  It’s not a cage and he wasn’t told to stay there (unless the note said that but, well, he can’t read it, so that’s not his fault). 

Sora lets himself wander.  The town is more or less barren, though there are lights coming from almost all the windows.  So everyone’s shut themselves up indoors.  The day is dismal, sure, but it’s not like there’s a downpour or anything plaguing the square.  So much for asking around if anyone’s seen a guy in a flashy outfit and a lady with bunny ears.

Not that it much matters because right as Sora’s meandering through the alleys, he runs right into them.  Or they run right into him.  Pursued by something that’s made its appearance in Sora’s nightmares before.

“Wha—?!” Sora shouts

“Oh, good, you’re up!” Balthier says and then scoops Sora around the middle and drags him back, running in the direction Sora just came from.  “No stopping this one, I’m afraid.  We’ll have to retreat for now and formulate a new plan of attack!”

Sora finds himself hauled up and held over Balthier’s shoulder; next to them, Fran is running along in loping strides, not at all struggling with the high-heels.  But Sora can only admire that in the most cursory ways because most of his view is occupied by the writhing, lurching mass of black that’s chasing them at a frankly horrifying pace.

“What is that?!” Sora cries, unable to take his eyes off the contorting bulk of congealed darkness (it has eyes, gleaming yellow eyes, why does it have eyes) that’s coming right for them.

“Too strong for us!” Fran calls back over the din of the chase.

It’s within fractions of a single second that Sora sees it.  The shadows stretch and roar and spread over the ground.  Like the darkness that swallowed Riku.  Like the creatures that were crawling all over Kairi.

“No!” Sora screams.

He lifts the Keyblade high above himself; the whole world erupts in blinding light.

Crashing to the ground kinda sucks, especially since the angle was just right for Balthier’s shoulder to collide with Sora’s gut (again).  Next to them, in a lanky heap, is Fran.  And as soon as Balthier rolls off of him, Sora just lays there, still brandishing his Keyblade straight ahead.  The darkness is gone, though. 

“Ow,” Sora wheezes, wrapping one arm around his stomach, but still holding the Keyblade with intent. 

“Alright there, everyone?” Balthier asks, still on his back, spread-eagled on the cobblestones.

“Scraped, but whole,” Fran says and pushes herself up into a sitting position.  Even banged up and dirty, she sits in the middle of the street with such poise.  “Are you alright, Sora?”

“You can lower your weapon now,” Balthier adds.  “There’s not hide nor hair of the creature anymore.  Whatever it was.”

Sora takes in long, heaving breaths and his elbow weakens from where he has it locked, arm outstretched. The Keyblade clatters onto the ground and he caves forward, slumping over his own knees.

“That was impressive, though,” Balthier goes on to say.  Sora closes his eyes and swallows hard and takes more deliberately long breaths.  “Seems you wield a power that will rather imperative to combating the Consuming Dark.  That key of yours.”  Balthier waves a hand and Sora catches it out of the corner of his eye but he’s also scanning the ground frantically, making sure the shadows don’t return.  “It did what neither Fran nor I could do on our own efforts or combined.  It really is the _key_ to eliminating the darkness.”

“Sora.”

A warm, gentle hand touches Sora’s back and he startles.  Fran’s there, watching him.

“Are you alright?” she asks.  Sora realizes he never answered her the first time.

“Something like that…swallowed up my friends,” he tells her, the words breaking as his chin quivers.  Sora looks down at his hand and pulls the Keyblade in close again. “It was gonna happen to you, too, and I just….”  He swallows the hard lump in his throat and wraps his arms around the Keyblade, hugging it to his chest while he tries a smile for Fran.  “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“We’re glad to have you,” Balthier says, now fully upright and his hand also landing on Sora’s back, patting against his shoulder.  “T’was good fortune you decided not to heed our words and stay at the hotel until we returned.”

“I couldn't read that note at all,” Sora admits.  Fran unfolds herself and stands and she and Balthier take either of Sora’s hands and haul him back up.

“Well, that would explain it, then,” Balthier says.  “This town is crawling with beasts much like that one.  Though they’re a might smaller, most of them, easier to handle one-on-one.  There’s no rhyme or reason to where they might appear so until we learned their behaviors, we wanted to keep you out of their reach.”  He looks down at Sora and raises an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth lifting in a smirk.  “Though it seems you’ve got more an advantage than we have.”

“I’m not really sure what I did,” Sora says, looking down at the Keyblade again.  “I feel like it happened without me thinking.”

“Hm.  Plenty of time to hone your skills along the way,” Balthier says, carefree as usual.  “I’ve never fancied myself a teacher but here’s to attempting the novel. How’s this: you come aboard the _Strahl_ , earn your keep by helping us maintain her, and I’ll teach you the finer points of combat.”

Sora looks up at Balthier and then immediately glances over to Fran, who gives him a sharp, solemn nod.  And then smiles at him, just a bit.

“I can go with you?” Sora asks them both, daring to hope.

“We’d already agreed to bring you on,” Balthier explains, “even without that display of magnificence you just unleashed.  But now I’d say we’re also honor-bound to repay you for saving our lives after that.  Care to come along, then?”  Balthier holds his hand out for Sora to shake.

“Thank you!” Sora says.  He lets the Keyblade vanish from his hand and takes Balthier’s squeezing tightly.  “I’m so happy!”

“Welcome aboard,” Fran says, and holds her own hand out.  Sora shakes it as well, though her grip practically hides his entire hand, her fingers are so long.  “The cabin you’ll use needs to be cleaned; it’s being used for storage at the moment.”

“Uhh,” Sora fumbles, giving Fran a sheepish smile, “okay, I’ll do it myself.  Just…. Help me so I know what stuff shouldn’t be thrown away? Or where to put things?”

“Certainly,” Balthier says and begins to walk away.  “You’ll learn the ins and outs in time.  We’ll be there to guide you until then.”

Which is a lot more than Sora could’ve asked for when he first landed in this town.  He could’ve been sitting alone in that alley this entire time, and probably would’ve ended up swallowed just like…. 

This way is better.  It has to be.  While he’s still alive, he can do _something_.  The Keyblade repels the darkness.  Maybe….  It’s possible that maybe Riku and Kairi are still alive.  Just lost in the darkness somewhere, like the worlds are.  The Keyblade is the one thing that Sora can use to try and find them. So he has to try; there’s no other option.

"I'm going back," Fran says.  "To make sure there were not casualties."  She turns and leaves without further ado.

“I'll show you home then,” Balthier calls, and Sora jogs to catch up with him, more lighthearted than he thought he could be.

 

* * *

 

The _Strahl_ is not a sloop.  It is not a schooner or a cutter or a ketch, it is a _spaceship_ and Sora doesn’t even know what to start thinking about that.  He stands in the hangar and stares up at the ship and then looks back at Balthier in disbelief.

“These are everywhere where you come from?” Sora asks, pointing up at the _Strahl_ because it’s docked _in the air_ because it’s a _spaceship_.

“Well, no, she’s actually a one-of-a-kind prototype that I pinched from the Empire so she’s about as common as fire is wet,” Balthier says with a bit of a shrug.  “But most craft of our realm are airborne vessels so perhaps that is the real answer to your question.  Surprised, I see.”

Sora turns back to the ship where it’s suspended off of an elevated dock and marvels at it.  There’s nothing like it that he’s ever seen, even in its shapes – curved and coiling in hues of rosy gold and patterns of blue on white like porcelain. 

“It’s so beautiful,” he says.  Riku would’ve thought so, too.

“Aye, that she is,” Balthier says.  “Come along, then.”

Sora has to catch himself once or twice – from tripping or running right into Balthier’s back – on the way up the stairs to the dock, distracted from trying to figure what each part of the _Strahl_ is for.  He doesn’t have a clue about any of it. 

“Right,” Balthier says as they make their way across the catwalk and he opens the hatch.  “After you.”

Sora steps inside and marvels.  It’s only a hallway but the carving of it is curved along the ceiling and an inviting shade of muted copper. 

“Cabins are back this way,” Balthier leads and Sora goes stumbling after him, mouth gently agape while he looks this way and that.  “This’ll be you.”  They stop at a door further down and Balthier hits a number-pad to the right of it to make it open.  Once the light comes on, it’s easy to see that most of the space is just cluttered up with boxes and papers and even chests.  Like, nicely carved and ornate chests made of wood or precious metals.

“Whoa, what’s in these?” Sora asks, going up to the nearest one, which is a bright blue and gilded in thick swirling tracery. 

“Treasures of our realm,” Balthier says as he leans against the doorway.  “Who knows what value they might have among these strange planets.”

“Were you guys merchants?” Sora asks, lifting up the lid and finding an excess of gold and jewels literally spilling into his lap.  “Whoa!”

“Hardly,” Balthier snorts.  “They called us Sky Pirates there.  Not those of reputable business or character, you see.  Wasn’t the fact that I stole this ship clue enough?”

“Pirates!” Sora exclaims, his hands wrist-deep in the treasure chest, full of riches from another world. “No way!”

Balthier chortles.

“Yes, indeed,” he says.  “Ah, but that is refreshing: seeing a boy like you keen on piracy.  Reminds me of someone.”  He chuckles again.  “Well, revel in the riches all you like but remember who they belong to.”

“Oh!  Oh, no, it’s okay.  I don’t need any of this,” Sora says, grinning a little as he pulls his hands from the chest.  “It’s just that I’ve never seen anything like it before.  Wow, really? You guys are actually pirates?  That’s so cool.  I can’t believe it.  Riku would never—”

Sora cuts himself off and sits back on his heels, looking back to the puddle of gold and thinking how it doesn’t shine as brightly now. 

“Your friend?” Balthier prompts gently.

“And Kairi,” Sora adds quietly with a nod.  “The ones I told you about before?  When the shadow-thing was after us.”

“Ah.”  Balthier crouches down next to Sora and picks up a single gold coin, tossing it back into the chest.  Then another.  And another.  “You know,” he says as he cleans up, “just because you cannot see someone as often as you would like, it doesn’t mean that they aren’t with you.”

Balthier lifts a hand and prods once at the center of Sora’s chest.

“Here.  In your heart,” he says.  “You hold your friends safely.  Memories that won’t fall to darkness, love that can never fail….  Everything they mean to you is there.  They are _with_ you, Sora.”

Sora sighs and rubs his hand over his chest, feeling like Balthier’s words only magnified how Kairi and Riku _aren’t_ there. 

“It’s hard to think that way,” he mutters.

“It is,” Balthier agrees, sweeping up coins with the side of his hand into the cup of his other palm.  “It will be the most difficult thing for a while. And I’ll not deceive you and say that the pain will eventually vanish, for it might never.” He pours the handful into the chest, the coins clattering musically against one another.  “You do them justice, though, when you uphold the goodness they gave to your life rather than dwell in the mires of despair without them.”

Sora picks up a glittering blue stone and gently sets it at the apex of the little pile in the treasure chest. 

“Take what time you need to mourn,” Balthier tells him.  “You’ll find it easier if you mourn them by _honoring_ them, rather than aching for them, though.”  He shuts the lid of the chest and flips the latch.  “Come now, we’ve more of the ship to explore.  And then we must have this room cleared out enough to unearth the cot there; it won’t do to have you stiff and cold sleeping on the floor. You’ll do shoddy work if you’re sore upon waking.”

Sora invites the change of subject and nods sharply.  Then falters.

“What, uh, what sort of work are you expecting me to do, exactly?” he asks.  “I mean, I can do anything if you teach me. But the kind of ship I was learning to sail was for water, not the air.”

“Oh, everything we do, save for what happens in the cockpit,” Balthier says.  “All the instruction will be for another time, though.  Better that you learn your way around first. It won’t do to have you stumbling somewhere mistakenly.  Keep sharp, will you?”

Sora hurries to catch up with Balthier, who’s already decided he’s leaving whether Sora’s sticking around or not, it seems.  The quick pace and overload of information keeps Sora’s mind off of everything that’s been on it the past day.  He forgets, even if just for a moment.

 

* * *

 

It turns out that it will be a while until they’re able to leave.  Balthier explained that they encountered some rough opposition before they landed in Traverse Town: some unruly extensions of the Darkness still reaching through the pathways between the realms.  And it did enough damage to force the _Strahl_ to land here.  Luckily the town has some inhabitants who seem to know how to help fix the beautiful airship.  And also outfit her with some more heavy ordinance which will be important to keep the incident from repeating.

He and Fran owe the mechanics payment upfront, though, before any work can be done.  Which is why they’ve been running around town, diminishing the sudden infestation of shadow creatures in return for small bounties from the locals.

“Our work also allowed us use of the hotel room,” Balthier adds.  “And all the food we’ve been eating.  Ah….  I’m not saying I crave a life of settlement but the stability of it all is certainly nice.”

“Your restlessness shows,” Fran says, walking a few paces ahead of the with her arrow notched but her bow lowered. 

“How so?” Balthier asks.  Not defensive but definitely challenging.

“You refuse to sit still,” Fran says.  “We’ve already lingered too long for your tastes.”

“So you say but your own listlessness is showing,” Balthier counters.  Sora trots along behind them a pace or two and just listens.  He can’t help but think about how they’re similar to Riku and Kairi, taking chances to bicker at one another but never rudely. Sora smiles but his heart aches.  The Keyblade materializes in his grip before he’s realized it and he swings it up to look once again, like each turn will reveal a new magnificent facet. The Wayfinder jangles cheerfully at the end; Sora eyes it and a thought takes root.

“Hey, uh,” he says, interrupting their conversation.  “Can I hunt shadows with you guys, too?”

“You want to?” Balthier asks. “What ever for?  Fran and I have it handled between us.”

“Not that last one, you didn’t,” Sora points out, hefting his Keyblade pointedly onto his shoulder.  “You said so yourself.”

Fran turns away but Sora catches the very corner of her smile before it’s hidden.

“Touché,” Balthier says with a shrug.  “Looking to master your newfound weapon, then?”

“No.  Well, I mean, sure, yeah, that too.  But I wanted….  Maybe I could earn some money for myself?”

“Ah,” Balthier says, nodding like he understands.  “A treasure stash of your own.  Say no more.  Well, Sora, you’re welcome to whatever kills you make.  The bounties shall be yours by rights.”

“Alright!” Sora crows eagerly under his breath.  And then takes off running, breaking between the flank of the both of them.  His heart is thudding eagerly in his ears. 

“Don’t get yourself into trouble!” Balthier yells after him.  “We’re not your rescue squad!”

“Right! I’m _your_ rescue squad!” Sora yells back.  He runs ahead and doesn’t look back. 

With the Keyblade brandished and the darkness opening in pits of shadow around him, Sora redoubles his grip.  Riku wouldn’t give up.  Riku would fight until he won.  So Sora’s not going to give up either.  The shadows quiver and skidder across the ground and Sora bares his teeth at them. 

Kairi had said once that it was okay to be afraid, not to try and hide that feeling.  Sora watches the shadows slip and surround him and can’t help but remember the cataclysm on the island and the losses that are still oozing sorrow into his life like fresh wounds.  He’s afraid, still.

And he remembers how he held the Keyblade up and it made even the biggest shadow vanish without him even having to try.

“I’m stronger than you!” Sora cries.  He throws himself, Keyblade-first, at the nearest shadow.  It only takes a few lunging blows for it to dissipate into wisps of darkness and then Sora pivots and does it all over again.

They move in predictable patterns, the shadows.  Sora does misstep once or twice, his shins scratched at and his arms battered but he battles on.  He can let himself carry his fear but he carries just as much courage, just as much faith that he won’t fall to these things. 

“Fourteen…. Fifteen….  Sixteen….”

Sora counts all of the ones he takes out and reminds himself that Balthier and Fran are literally within running distance.  They’ll help him if he calls to them.  He’s not alone; he won’t lose as long as he has friends to help him out, friends to look out for.

What Balthier said back on the _Strahl_ was enough to hurt but he was right.  Even now, Sora can feel a burst of warmth in his chest, relying on the strength and wisdom that Kairi and Riku have given him.  They’re with him.  They’re not here now but they never left him.  They make him strong.

So he fights. 

He remembers his fears and destroys every shadow that creeps between the cobblestones towards him.  This will be his life now, his duty.  The Darkness is creeping over the worlds, infesting and erasing them from the universe.  Each new world they go to will have its own shadows, its own monsters.  Surely Traverse Town won’t be the end of them. 

Sora breathes heavily and shouts another war cry before he slams his Keyblade into an oncoming shadow. Sweat dapples his forehead and his chest aches from the hard breaths he’s taking.  He’s here.  Sora is still here and he’s going to fight until he finds his friends.  And if their world never comes back, they’ll just make a new home together somewhere.

With one almighty strike, Sora wipes out the last three shadows ganging up on him and is left alone in the plaza, heaving each breath into his lungs.  His hands are tingling around his grip on the Keyblade and he darts his focus to and fro, in case there are any shadows he might’ve missed. 

What _does_ catch his eye is the shimmering outline of a keyhole embedded in the nearby fountain.  Sora straightens and approaches it, curious.

“Looks like you’re for me,” he says to the radiant cutout.  “Here goes….”

Sora lifts the Keyblade and jabs it straight towards the keyhole.  Instantly, the Keyblade glows and a beam of light penetrates the keyhole; the _clunk_ of a weighty bolt being turned resounds through the square.  Sora feels a smile lift at the corners of his mouth.

“No idea what that even does,” he says to himself as the keyhole shimmers out of existence.  “Think it was a good thing, though.  Wow, I want to sit down.”

And he does.  Sora plunks right onto the pavement and sprawls his legs out. The Keyblade falls into his lap and Sora smiles at the Wayfinder charm, beaming bright against the dinginess of his unwashed shorts. 

“We make a good team, I think,” he says, rubbing his thumb against the soft leather wrapped around the grip.  “Thank you for helping me.”

Balthier and Fran catch up with him not long after and when they go to collect the bounties, Sora gets a third of the cut just for himself.  He tosses the purse of coins back and forth between his hands as they walk together back to the hotel. 

“Think you’ll spend it soon?” Balthier asks Sora when Sora has taken off his shoes and found a place to sit cross-legged on the floor so he can count up all of his earnings.  “Or are you the thrifty sort who prefers to save?”

“Oh, I’m going to buy some things,” Sora says assuredly, arms folded over his chest as he stares down at his small bit of wealth.  “But, uh, no idea what just yet.  I figured I’d know it when I saw it.”

Balthier snorts and shrugs his shoulders.

“It’s yours to do with as you wish,” is all he says, and ducks into the restroom, most likely to shower himself off.  Fran’s picking up dinner tonight.  Sora hopes she hurries because he’s halfway thinking about running out to the nearest grocer and throwing all this newly-earned cash at them just to stuff more of those mint-jam fruits in his mouth.

He doesn’t want to, though, not really.  Whatever this money ends up buying is going to be for his friends.  To honor them.  And to remind Sora of what he’s fighting for, and whose strength is guiding him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gettin' kinda choppy, i feel like, but my goal for this whole damn project is 'completed' not 'perfect,' so there: i finished this part.
> 
> come bug me on my [tumblr ](https://rednaelo.tumblr.com)if you like.


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